


Prismarine

by definedev



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dream SMP but I take what I want and makeup the rest, George's POV, M/M, Pining, Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27983607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definedev/pseuds/definedev
Summary: Years had passed since George, Sapnap, and Dream began building a community. George found comfort in his simple routine of daytime chores and nighttime longing while Dream constantly seemed determined to bring about chaos.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 17





	1. A Netherite Sword

George woke up sweating, his sheets uncomfortably damp. His makeshift shelter lit up and sweltering. Though he would’ve preferred to lie on the bed for the rest of the day, his tent was insulating the heat until it became almost unbearable. He had only been gone for a couple days now, but he longed for the comforting shade of the spruce trees and a dip in the cool springs back at home. He pulled himself up, wiping his bare chest with the already dampened sheet. Catching a whiff of the shirt he pulled on, he grimaced; it had been a while since he’d had go more than a day without cleaning. He’d been spoiled, hanging out most days either doing simple tasks around base or spending hours messing around with Dream and Sapnap.

He decided to pack his armor, not wanting to wander around with the extra weight. With his sword and shovel strapped at his side, he folded up the tent, and packed the rest in his backpack. George didn’t regret making the trip, but his lungs burned as he trudged through the sand, his feet sinking slightly with every step. The dry air sucked any moisture from his skin and sweat dripped down his face. As he licked his dry lips he could taste the salt.

  
Dream had told him of a buried chest he had come across a while ago that he’d been unable to go through at the time. Dream wasn’t thrilled about the idea of him traveling alone, but George had figured it would be good for him to get out and be alone for a while. So he set out for it in the thick heat of the desert. Eventually he found a good place to start digging, it matched Dream’s somewhat vague description of the chest’s location. He laid down his belongings and got to work, the hot sun beating on his back only somewhat diminishing the simple pleasure of working. George thought back to when Dream, Sapnap, and him first arrived, before they had even met the others. They started with nothing, but they worked hard. To be able to see it all pay off, to see everything come to life, it was special. They didn’t have much those days, but at least each day brought something new.

It had only been an hour or so when his shovel hit something hard. Throwing it to the side, he used his hands to dig out the chest and hastily opened it while sitting on the sand, not worrying about it getting on his clothes. He grinned when he saw what was inside; it had definitely been worth the trip. Quickly, he grabbed his bag and starting unloading the loot. A nice amount of diamonds, some emeralds, and prismarine crystals, which he ran his hands across before tossing them in as well. But by far the most impressive of the loot was a Netherite sword. George could see the soft purple shimmer of enchantment; it was new, maybe never used if he guessed correct, and the handle was etched with silver. He was no expert on welding, but anyone could tell it was quality.

Dream would love it, he thought. He would gift it to him; after all it would be used much better in the hands of Dream than himself. He smiled to himself as he collected his things, thinking of how thrilled Dream will be to see the sword. He could already picture him telling George, “there’s no way I can accept this” but George would see the desire for the sword in his eyes, the way Dream was already imagining using it, the way it would swing perfectly in his graceful hands. George would insist and Dream wouldn’t be able to hide his excitement as he finally gave in.

The occasional bird chirped or a coyote howled as George made his way back, but otherwise it was completely barren. The lonely desert made him long for days spent in the company of the others. His compass pointed him north as he walked. It was his third day searching and he would rather not spend another night out so he walked quickly, hoping to return before sundown. Eventually sand turned to dirt and grass and the heat relaxed. At the first sign of fresh water, he threw his bag to the ground and splashed it onto his face, relief washing over him. He wasn’t made for the desert. After a brief rest, leaning against a tree offering appreciated shade, and a lunch of some bread that had been flattened in his bag as well as a couple apples that hadn’t fended so well in the heat either, he continued. George fought exhaustion with the thought of spending tonight in his own bed.

The sun sank lower in the sky and George carried on deeper through the trees. George considered setting up camp for the night, but he knew he was close. He unsheathed his sword and continued on instead. As darkness completely covered the woods, George lit a torch. Though he didn’t want to draw attention from mobs, he had tripped over one too many branches. The awful moans and rattling of the mobs spawning nearby made the hairs on the back of his neck stand, though he wouldn’t like to admit it. He wanted to believe he could be okay without Dream and Sapnap. Even if he had forgotten to ever put on his armor.  
A few zombies had picked up on him and were headed his way.

  
“fuck” he whispered.

  
He easily killed the two, but as he finished them the diamonds in his bag loudly clattered against each other, attracting even more attention. An arrow flew past him, barely skimming his arm. Slowly he was being surrounded and with no better options he shimmied his bag off his shoulders and let his torch fall to the ground as he climbed the nearest tree.

The stench of rot and death rose up to him as the zombies clamored loudly, calling for him, but unable to do anything but watch. He figured he would spend an uncomfortable, but bearable night in the tree. That was until an arrow narrowly missed him, lodging itself in the tree next to his hand. He cursed as he hurried himself further up, hoping to get out of reach of the skeleton’s bows. Arrows flew past him, he figured they couldn’t see him well from the leaves, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t get lucky. Panic set in as he nearly lost his footing on the branch where he stood. His hands were scratched and bloodied by the bark he grabbed. His sword was useless against the mobs at the ground and he considered dropping it to climb better, but decided against. He got as high as he could and looked below. All he could do was hope no arrow found its target. He closed his eyes and held onto the trunk of the tree.

After minutes passed, the noises grew louder and he looked down to see someone in full armor killing the zombies below with ease. Despite the armor, George could tell who it was, the way he swung his sword so effortlessly, making fighting look more like a dance. He watched for a moment as Dream tore down zombies and skeletons, a few arrows harmlessly bouncing off his armor. It struck George that he should help out, though Dream likely didn’t need it. He hopped down branch by branch until he was on the ground and helped finish off the last of the mob. For a few seconds the only sound was of their heavy breathing. George didn’t say anything as he quickly found his bag and swung it back over his shoulders.

They spoke at the same time,

  
“What were you thinking?” and “Thank you”.

Neither spoke again for a few moments, to let the other talk.

  
“What were you doing out at this time?” George asked.

  
George looked at the other man, though he couldn’t see much of him in the dark.

  
“Come on, lets go back” Dream said, and George followed, leaving behind the torch, which was out anyway.

  
“I couldn’t sleep” Dream answered later, as they made their way home.

  
George looked at his feet, embarrassed at letting himself get into that situation.

  
“Lucky for me” he muttered.

  
Dream said nothing, but took off his helmet and placed it on George’s head. It was slightly large for him, covering his eyes before George pushed it back. Dream’s way of saying, “Why weren’t you wearing your armor? Dumbass”. But still, it made him feel safer.

It wasn’t long until they saw the soft yellow glow of torches as they neared base, George glanced over to see the light reflect softly on Dreams face, making his hair look more golden than usual. They walked back in silence to his, Dream, and Sapnap’s shared house. He presumed Sapnap was asleep as the house was dark until Dream lit a few candles. George felt another rush of shame as he saw Dream set down the sword he had used to fight off the mobs. Old, probably dull, and iron. He stripped off his remaining armor as George sat down, taking his helmet back. Glancing at George’s cut up hands, he pulled out some alcohol and a bowl of fresh water from their barrel.

  
Dream gestured to George’s hands, “Let me”.

George was embarrassed enough at Dream having to save him, the thought of him cleaning his wounds as well was enough to put a bitter taste in his mouth. But, the adrenaline was wearing off and the exhaustion of the journey was catching up to him, so he didn’t fight it. George grimaced when the alcohol was poured over his cuts; though it was satisfying to watch the dirt and splinters wash off into the water.

“You were gone a while” Dream commented.

  
George remembered the sword in his bag and the rush of excitement reinvigorated him.

  
“Oh Dream, it was worth it” George said with a smile that came so natural.

  
He pulled his bag to him before Dream could tell him not to use his hands, and pulled out the gems first.  
Dream did look impressed as he sorted through the diamonds and emeralds, and George warmed. He wasn’t the only one who desired Dream’s approval; it was quite a sought after commodity.

  
He grabbed the handle of the sword, “But this is the best part”.  
George saw the exact look in Dream’s eyes that he had expected as he handed it over to him.

  
Dream ran his thumb carefully over the edge of the sword, appreciating it thoroughly.

  
“It’s an excellent sword George,” he praised with a smile as he motioned to hand it back. Dream was simple with words, giving away more in his eyes than he ever did speaking. He was proud of George, for making the journey, for finding the treasure, but he was jealous. He wanted that sword.

  
“It’s yours.”

  
Dream furrowed his eyebrows, “No…”

  
George smirked, happy with himself for being able to surprise the man, then dramatically raised a hand at him, “Take it, and I won’t hear anything else”.

  
“If this is about me finding you…” Dream said, though George noticed him pull the sword closer to himself.

  
“oh shut up,” George said, laughing “I was going to give it to you from the moment I saw it.”

  
Though he tended to avoid direct eye contact, Dream looked right at him, affection painted undeniably upon his face, typically hard features now soft. George was just happy to be able to revel in the spotlight of his gaze.

  
“I-” Dream began, looking at George and struggling to find the words.

  
“Thank you” He finished simply.

  
George gave a smile and sauntered off to his room. His eyes drooped as he walked down the hallway in the dark. The smell of spruce welcomed him home as he pushed open the wooden door to his room and collapsed onto his bed. Still filthy from the trip, but too exhausted to care, he decided bathe tomorrow. The days of traveling weighed upon him as he fell effortlessly into a dreamless slumber.


	2. Lazy Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is my first time posting any sort of writing, so if there is any suggestions or anything I would love to hear them!
> 
> Just building up characters and stuff right now, I'l get more into plot next chapter :)

George woke to shuffling in the kitchen. He glanced out his window to see the sun high in the sky; he must have slept a while. It was refreshing to wake in a room that wasn’t sweltering. The cool wooden planks were smooth under George’s bare feet as he walked to a chest full of his clothes. He pulled off his shirt caked with dried mud in favor of a clean one. The sound of Dream and Sapnap laughing from the kitchen floated to George’s room and he left to join them. The two other boys sported messy hair from sleep and George ran his fingers through his own, which he only assumed looked similar. 

“Can’t believe you’d show your face around here” Sapnap joked as he threw a plate of eggs towards George. 

There was a certain charm in the air. It was Sunday, a day of leisure. Even the sun shone lazily, casting idle rays so unlike the harsh beating in the desert. 

“Me and dream were thinking of heading to the springs,” Sapnap said as he sat down.

George nodded with his mouth full.

They ate and chatted and George was glad to be home. Sun flooded the kitchen and he couldn’t help but glance at Dream’s angelic appearance. He tapped his foot against the floor. As he snuck a look at Dream, he saw him do the same while he and Sapnap argued lightheartedly about one thing or another; George hadn’t been paying attention to what. He smiled to himself as his eyes shot down to his own plate. 

The three pulled off their shirts before making their way into the spring not far from their home. Tommy and Tubbo were already there, standing in the water studying a few rocks in Tubbo’s hands. They barely seemed to notice the boys’ arrival until Sapnap ran his hand through the water, splashing them both. Tubbo gasped, trying to collect the rock he had dropped as Tommy sprang for revenge. George and Dream stayed back, only in to their shins as they watched the boys roughhouse. George noticed Dream smile with fondness. It seemed he and Tommy had moved past their differences. George was glad; though he took Dream’s side, their fighting had always seemed petty to him.

The cool water sent a shiver down George’s back as he swirled around his hand, trying to adjust to the temperature. He moved away from the rest of the group, slowly submerging himself until he laid his head back and allowed himself to sink. The water was crisp and all the sound surrounding him disappeared as his head went under. When his lungs finally cried for air he lifted himself above the surface, wiping his eyes and smoothing his hair back. He allowed the sun to warm him, squinting at the bright reflections of light on the water. He observed the others as he treaded back to shore. His thoughts wandered as they often did, remembering the conflict not long ago. 

George had wanted Dream to just grant L’Manberg their independence; he didn’t understand the reason for trouble on both sides really. In the end it was all just labels, otherwise there were only small differences since the separation. Despite everything, they were still all here, in this spring together. George hated himself for accepting it all, he never once told Dream how he felt, but what was he to do anyways? It was easy to simply go along, he thought perhaps that was one of the reasons he would never be as great as Dream. 

It wasn’t long until Tommy, Tubbo, and Sapnap ran off, Tommy shouting something about a new project the two had been working on that they just had to show Sapnap. George could only hope it had nothing to do with weapons or explosives. 

George pulled out a book he had brought and laid under a tree offering shade for him to see the words. Occasionally his hair would drip water upon the book, smudging the ink. Dream swam laps across the spring while George tried to bury himself into his book to avoid staring. 

His skin glistened with water and sunlight as one of his arms than the other broke the surface of the water. The full extent of his strength wasn’t visible from looking at him, most of the time he appeared rather thin, but the way he propelled himself across the spring made it evident just how powerful he was. 

“George!” Dream shouted to him. He glanced away from his book, raising one hand over his eyes to block the sun as he looked to Dream. 

“What are you doing?” He asked George, swimming toward him. 

George folded over the page he was on before setting it back in his bag, “I’m reading”

Dream raised his eyebrows, “Doesn’t appear so” 

George rolled his eyes at Dream’s playful teasing. “What would you know about reading anyway?” 

Dream pulled himself out of the water and sat next to him, splashing some water onto George’s bag in the process, then laid with his back on the ground, watching the sky, “Ouch”

George stayed sitting upright against the tree. The silence was comfortable, but Dream’s lax confidence countered hard with George’s innate awkwardness. He thought about grabbing his book again, but instead closed his eyes did his best to stay in the moment, glancing to see Dream doing the same. 

Minutes passed, or perhaps hours, before Dream startled him, “If you fancy staring at me so much, why don’t you watch me try out the new sword.”

George inhaled sharply; attempting to appear annoyed at Dream’s typical remarks and gave a brief, “Okay.”

The sun had dried all but their hair so they pulled their shirts and shoes back on before making their way to the house. The sun had sunk slightly from its midday peak; making its way to set in a few hours. After Dream had picked up the Netherite sword and a few sparring swords, they began the trek to a training area a distance from their home. They chatted casually as they walked along while George kicked up dust with his white sneakers. Passing Fundy and Nihachu, George offered a greeting with friendliness uncommon from him; he couldn’t help his cheerful mood from spilling out of him. 

The training area was a project never quite completed, just a fenced off area with a few targets and sacks of grain scattered around, as well as a hastily made table and bench, covered with a shallow roof. The dirt was packed down from months of feet striking it. Dream carefully laid the new sword on a rack and tossed one of the sparring swords to George. 

“We’re actually training?” George asked, adjusting his grip

Dream smiled, “I can’t be there to save you every time.” 

George only scoffed in return. They faced each other, swords up. 

His throat tightened slightly; he was nervous to face him knowing Dream would win every time. Their swords clashed a few times, George was on the defensive only trying to fend off Dream’s aggressive attacks. He held his own more than he had expected and with a rush of confidence, swung first. Dream quickly side stepped and George was exposed as he lunged forward. Dream carefully tapped him on the throat, where he would’ve killed him in a different situation. 

They went on for a while, the only sounds being the swords clashing together and their heavy breathing. A few beads of sweat dripped down George’s face as he lost over and over. If it had been anyone else in the world he would be fuming, likely would have thrown his sword to the ground by now and climbed a tree to escape. 

“You need to play to your strengths,” Dream began “take advantage of my arrogant attacks, strike me when I’ve pushed the boundaries of my skill.”

George nodded, focusing as they moved around each other.

“You’re small, but that only makes it harder to hit you. You have to be quick, swift, and-”

They stood still for a moment after George finally managed to catch him, ducked down with his sword at Dream’s stomach. 

“Catch me by surprise” He finished with a satisfied grin, despite him being the one who had lost. 

George’s face flushed with the embarrassment of a racing heart, convinced it was visible outside his shirt while Dream stood stoic as ever. 

“Okay, I’m ending there.” George said while trying to hide his panting. 

George grabbed the other sparring sword from Dream. 

“You did well.” Dream told him. 

George smiled while his back turned was to him, walking toward the rack where the Netherite sword laid. He carefully picked it up after setting down the swords he’d been carrying down, “Your turn.”

George watched from his seat under the roof as the other man fought an invisible opponent, the purple shimmer of enchantment catching the golden rays of a setting sun. There was a small damp patch on Dream’s T-shirt where his sweat had fallen on his back. He couldn’t think of anyone who would suit that sword better, who would be more deserving. A small ache caught in his throat as he watched. 

They weren’t getting any younger, one-day Dream would go off to marry some girl from a nearby village and she would dote after him, just as George did now. 

He was beautiful in an untouchable way. Loving him was like pages ripped out of a journal because you weren’t worthy enough to write out his name. Loving him was trying to forgive yourself for all the ways you couldn’t be perfect for him.   
George felt pricks of shame thinking this way in front of Dream; these thoughts were best saved for dark nights in his room alone, breathing hard while staring at the moon. 

Dream sliced one of the bags of grain; the only thing the blade had touched since it had been found. The sack slouched as the seeds poured out, rushing to be freed from the burlap they had been trapped and abandoned in. The sound shook George from his thoughts. 

“It’s getting late,” Dream said as he walked towards George who rose to meet him. 

Neither had ever been one to fill silence with meaningless conversation, so they walked home in comfortable quiet as darkness spread over the SMP. 

At the dinner table Dream told George and Sapnap he had to take a trip to the Nether tomorrow, to not worry when he was gone in the morning, to not wait up for him that night. George tried not to think about the empty feeling that left in his stomach, didn’t allow himself to question what Dream was up to. 

George slept well that night, though when he woke his muscles ached, not used to the demands of fighting and the way it stole his energy. He ate breakfast with Sapnap and spent his day tending to livestock and the farm. After he finished his work for the day he bathed and ate dinner with Sapnap, the house quieter than normal. He felt he disappointed Sapnap; he couldn’t carry on the same witty conversations the other two entertained him with. 

George laid on his side with his sheets pulled to his chin as he listened to the pitter-patter of the rain hitting his window. It was a chilly night; he felt it through the glass next to his bed. Thoughts of the blonde floated to his mind, as they tended to do. He hadn’t returned yet, but Dream had told them he’d be late. 

The thing about Dream’s absence that struck him the hardest was the way it almost hadn’t occurred to him he was gone at all. He went through his life the same, just without any color. His eyes closed and his mind began to relax, but something wouldn’t let him rest. He drifted in and out of consciousness, each time he came close to sleep he would be pulled from it once more. 

He heard the front door click and the barrier began to dissolve.   
Another door opened, much closer this time.   
His eyes stayed closed as he felt the bed dip beside him. He thought of green eyes and looked to see them staring back. He couldn’t speak. His body was not his. His hands, skin, the tongue in his own mouth, they were all so foreign. The boy in the bed next to him wrapped his arm around George, he felt fingers comb through his hair. A smell so familiar as they melted into one. There was no one else, only the two of them and the soft tapping of rain. A gentle rumble of thunder every now and then. 

George reached out a hand but the other boy crumbled at his touch.  
The room was cold again as his eyes opened. The sky mourned with him.


End file.
